


orange-coated potential

by hondayota



Series: the lucky ones [4]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, its ronan and gansey just at the start of their friendship and i love them, this isn't romantic just btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hondayota/pseuds/hondayota
Summary: prompt: Ik you wrote Adam learning about Gansey's allergy to bees (which was wonderful btw); could you write about when RONAN first learned Gansey was allergic??just btw, adam learning about gansey's allergy will be part 6 of this series bc im actually trying to post these next three in chronological order (but still no need to read all if you don't want to)





	

The Pig ground to a stop. Ronan and Gansey lurched forward in their seats. Black smoke swirled from the exhaust, the lights on the dashboard flickered off. Gansey turned the car off. Put the key back in the ignition. Turned. The engine sputtered, gasping for flashes of life in the Virginia air, but there were none to be found. “Shit,” said Ronan.

“Thanks for summing up.” Gansey told him. Ronan glared at Gansey as he spoke, but there was no heat in it. It was the sort of glare he might give Matthew, had Matthew owned a piece-of-fucking-crap-car that stalled twenty miles from the Henrietta city limits. “Can you check the glove compartment, Lynch? There should be a manual in there.”

“Your car fucking sucks,” Ronan informed Gansey, popping open the glove compartment anyway. Gansey shot him a pointed look, one that Ronan had already grown used to. It meant, in Ronan-speak, stop dicking around. It meant, you’re my brother, and I can see straight through your posturing. Ronan hoped that was what it meant. Ronan was terrified that was what it meant.

Ronan loved Gansey’s car. He loved the orange-coated potential it had, speed and adventure and necessity; friendship. He loved it becauase Gansey loved it.

When the glove compartment opened, a mountain of Gansey-ness buried him. He sifted through the pile on his lap as Gansey fiddled with the steering wheel, scanning for a car manual. Sports Illustrated. Week old fries. Dollar Store receipts with hasty notes scribbled on the backs. Something with a lot of buttons and two antennas, probably Glendower related. That, or Gansey had some weird personal habits.

Finally, Ronan uncovered the manual. It looked like it had possibly been buried with Glendower itself. It was propped open, and Ronan carefully extracted something from between the pages. An epipen. He recognized the shape from childhood; Declan was allergic to ants. They had had to use the needle more than once growing up at the Barns.

“Gansey,” said Ronan, quiet. “What’s this.” It wasn’t a question, because Ronan knew. But he wanted to hear it from Gansey.

“Did you find the…oh. It’s my epipen.” Gansey looked sort of far away, staring just to the left of Ronan’s head, into the woods next to the car.

“No way.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “What the fuck is it for?” Why haven’t you told me about this before? Ronan added silently. He knew he was overreacting. He and Gansey hadn’t been friends long. But Gansey knew Ronan better than anyone but Ronan himself, and this felt like Ronan didn’t know Gansey at all.

“It’s. Um. Well.” Gansey’s hands fluttered nervously near his face, tiny wings. “Bees, you know. Wasps.” He looked like a child, Ronan thought. Wide-eyed and vulnerable. Afraid.

“Fuck, dude. Those are everywhere.”

“Actually,” Gansey murmured, “stings aren’t very common.” It didn’t sound like this information helped. It didn’t help Ronan. Gansey continued, rattling off statistics of bee stings in the United States, then Virginia specifically. Ronan didn’t listen. He was already planning. Dreaming. In his mind, epipens spilled from cabinets, the fridge at Monmouth, pockets. The Pig drowned in then, and Gansey pushed a few aside to drive. Ronan held hundreds in each hand, and Gansey was safe.

The Pig sputtered to life. Gansey began to drive. Ronan grinned. “Go faster,” he urged. “I have something to do at home.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is a really short one (i keep saying that as if everything im uploading isnt short) but if you liked it you should hmu at pygmytyrants.tumblr.com


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